3BT – hotel toast, nothing to do, in control

1. Last week I was introduced to the phrase of “hotel toast”: when you let toast go cold before spreading it with butter so the spread sits on top rather than sinking in. Hotel toast is my favourite way to have toast – this morning, I have it with butter and strawberry jam: delicious.

2. My whole body aches but I know it’s ok because there is nothing on my to-do list but rest. I stretch out on the sofa and let my WoW avatar do the energetic stuff instead.

3. The dog think she’s a master manipulator – the big brown eyes, the sad ears, the heavy head rested woefully on the table or the cushions – but we find her overacting hilarious. She looks sadder when we laugh and we ultimately give in. Perhaps she’s a better manipulator than we realised!

Lily’s hectic morning

Oh hai:


I’m so sleepy:


So very sleepy:


No, wakey wide awake!:


No, very, very sleepy.


Stealing Lily dog’s soul again

Lily-dog does not like having her photo taken. In the year and a bit she’s been living with us, we’ve taken maybe half a dozen pictures of her that aren’t paparazzo shots of her bum in retreat.



Lily in the snow

Three beautiful things from the last five minutes

1. A scratch-scratch-scratch. I open the door and a little boy & two little girls are waiting together to be admitted into the room of cosy-warm.

2. In previous days, I may have been sad that the pie tin was too big for the cats but instead I get to be happy that it’s perfectly sized for the dog.

3. The cats flank me, one either side of my laptop. Boron leans in for head kisses (my lips are on his head as I type this) while Carla simply purrs.

Not finished yet, waggle welcome, blown out

1. The last flashes of summer – a slowly ripening chilli, a sweet pea flower curving up to the light, the scent of the brushed basil in the porch.

2. I wish I had a tail to wag too, then we could run around in wagging unison when he comes home from the office. Instead, she gets to do the waggledy running in circles thing and get a hug.

3. The constant roar is like an unrelenting sea – the gales force winds buffeting through the near naked trees. Then when we turn the light off to go to sleep, it suddenly stops. For two, three minutes, the world is silent.